Soil to the Soul
On yoga, natural living, equality, and the slow unlearning of everything we were sold — written from wherever the road happens to be.
Practice doesn't wait for an empty mat
Latest
On the quiet ego hidden inside parental love, what we teach our children when we buy their happiness, and what letting my son go finally taught me about it.
Earlier entries
On the ego, urbanisation, and a night in Kartong when a man who owns almost nothing reminded me what it means to be human — and why we need each other more than we need more.
Six and a half weeks in Abéné. I arrived not knowing anyone. I left with brothers and sisters — and three dogs. On the Bayefall, radical generosity, 2 AM at Jazz Café, and a goodbye bonfire that showed me exactly who my friends were.
No studio, no mirrors — just sand, wind, the ocean, dogs wandering through, and Dom beside me on his own mat. How outdoor practice changed everything.
I spent weeks in a treehouse on the Gambian coast, watching a Chinese fishmeal factory empty the ocean and the Atlantic slowly swallow the shore. A quiet witness account.
It started with soap. Then one by one, the bottles disappeared. This is what nobody tells you about shampoo — and what your hair actually needs.